Mal Keyye Ko Keizaal

by Dragon Dreaming

Chapter 4 - Dovahkiin

AJ pulled hard on the ends of the leather strip, ensuring that the knot was secure before moving to the next hole. Beside her, Rainbow was carefully putting holes into the dragonskin, the points of her steel daggers having proved to be the best tool for the job. Across from them, two guards whose names she had immediately forgotten were doing the same thing. The stretcher was makeshift, but it would serve to get Pinkie back to Whiterun. That it had been made from dragon bone and dragon skin was, in Rainbow’s mind, poetic justice.
“You must be Dragonborn.” Rainbow looked up from the dragonskin to find AJ staring at the guard who’d spoken as if he’d grown two heads.
“Beg your pardon?”
“You know the old stories, right?” the guard replied, and AJ nodded, slowly. “Dragonborn.”
Applejack snorted, and returned to tying the leather strips. “Last Dragonborn was Martin Septim, and he died without heir.”
The other guard poked in her direction with his dagger. “First Dragonborn got it from Akatosh. You absorbed that dragon’s soul, didn’t you?” Applejack was silent.
“Okay, what are you talking about?” Rainbow asked, her curiosity overcoming whatever shame there might have been at her ignorance. “What’s all this about Dragonborn?”
The guards gave each other a look, smirks on their face, and Rainbow scowled. “Aren’t you from Cyrodiil?” the first one asked her, his mustache twitching.
“Yeah, I am,” she replied, glaring at him. “And if you don’t stop laughing at the poor, ignorant Imperial and answer the blasted question, I’ll show you why I had to leave.”
“No call for that, Rainbow,” AJ said, shooting the guards a glare of her own. “The old stories say that, once, a long time ago, Akatosh gave a mortal the gift of his blood, creating the first of the Dragonborn. They also say that all the Emperors up to the last of the Septims were Dragonborn. Best known one is Tiber Septim.”
Rainbow blinked. “Wait, so you’re royalty?”
“No! I ain’t even Dragonborn, and that alone ain’t make me royalty!”
Rainbow shifted back a bit, eyebrows raised at Applejack’s near shouting. Just a little hostile, there. “Whatever you say,” she said, working another hole into the dragon skin and moving down to the next spot. “Still, the dragon … burned up. And went right to you.”
“Right,” said the mustache, and Rainbow noted that it really was a rather glorious mustache. “You absorbed its soul.” Applejack gave the leather strip a vicious tug, and moved on.
“You know,” said the other guard, working at his side of the skin, “I never heard of Talos taking any dragon souls.”
“Well there weren’t any for him to hunt, then, were there?” said mustache. “On account of them all being dead. Now they’re back, though.”
“Oh really? I would never have guessed,” Rainbow said, drawing a snort from AJ. Oh good, she could still laugh.
“There’s a way to know for sure, you know,” the other guard said. “If you’re dragonborn.” Applejack remained silent. “Dragonborn can all Shout,” he continued, “just naturally. No training needed. Can you? Have you tried?”
“No, I ain’t tried, and I ain’t gonna,” Applejack said, handing a leather strip to Dash, who tied off the last hole on her side of the stretcher. “I ain’t dragonborn.” The guards gave each other another look, then mustache looked at Rainbow. She just shook her head, and he nodded. The rest of the stretcher was finished in silence.
 
“Alright, lift gently. She’s healed, but the wounds are still tender.” The guards nodded to their commander, and lifted, sliding the dozing Khajiit onto the stretcher and putting her down as gently as possible. They’d done well; she didn’t even crack an eyelid. “Good. Go join the others,” the Dark Elf ordered, and the guards were off.
“You are certain you will be fine on the way back?” Irileth asked, and Applejack and Rainbow nodded.
“We’ve spent the last month on the road, ma’am,” said AJ, “and we’re used to the burden of packs. Compared to those, our friend’s no burden.”
The Dark Elf nodded. “You do me a favor by going to report in my stead. With the watchtower broken, this area will be a prime target for bandits and other no accounts – organizing a presence here is top priority. Here, give the Jarl this,” she said, bending down and pick a blue flower from the side of the road. “He will trust you regardless, but that flower will let him know that you return with my blessing.”
AJ nodded, and took the flower carefully, then at her person. She had a distressing lack of appropriate pouches for it, and was about to simply stash it in her bracer when Rainbow took the bloom from her hands and slipped it into her hair, weaving it into the pale strands with ease and swiftness.
“There.” AJ stared at her. Rainbow stared back, eyebrow raised. “What? Best way to store ‘em if you don’t got a basket.” The Nord just shook her head.
“One last thing,” Irileth said, and the two women looked to her. “I overheard the guards, earlier.” AJ scowled. “I don’t know about this dragonborn business, and I don’t think I much care. It’s Nord legend, and I am not a Nord,” she continued, and Rainbow snorted. Seemed everybody liked to state the dead obvious, today. “What I do know is that you’ve shown that dragons can be killed – all three of you – and that is what matters. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re with us.”
They each shook her outstretched hand, and Rainbow had to fight down a slight blush at the respect in the woman’s eyes. She was no stranger to admiration, but this was … different. Of course, Irileth was one of the authorities, and one of them liking her for once was different from her norm, so that was probably it.
The two of them bent down and took hold of the stretcher, Applejack at the head and Rainbow following. The weight wasn’t as bad as it could be, but it would be torture before long, she knew. “Wish we had a horse,” she muttered, as they set out. It was going to be a long trek back.
 

 
The four of them gathered in the courtyard, heavy robes guarding them against the biting winds. They needed no words to talk. Each already knew what the others did, and each already knew what they needed to do. As one, they raised their faces to the sky. As one, they turned from each other, to face the world. As one, they waited.
 

 
They need you.
Sleepy. Go ‘way.
They need you.
That’s why sleepin’. Get better. Go ‘way.
They are frowning.
Oh. That’s different.
 
Pinkie’s eyes fluttered open. First thought in her mind was that that one cloud way up there looked like a chicken, and the one right behind it looked like a mudcrab. Mudcrab chasing a chicken. She giggled.
“Oh, you’re awake.” She turned her head in the direction of the voice, and saw Rainbow, sitting on a rock and digging at a piece of bark with one of her daggers.
“Yep!” she replied, grinning, and was relieved to see the redhead return the smile.
“How you feelin’, Pinks?”
“Pinkie is-“ she paused, brow furrowing, as she considered the answer and tested out her legs, moving them around a bit. “Pinkie is tired and a little sore, but that’s nothing. What about you two?”
Rainbow’s smile turned a little sad at the question. “I’m fine, but AJ’s been real quiet this whole trip.”
Pinkie considered, closing her eyes for just a moment. “It’s that dragonborn stuff.”
Rainbow stared at her, mouth slightly open. “What? How’d you know about that?”
Pinkie raised an eyebrow at her, then twitched an ear – a very large, furry ear. Rainbow closed her eyes and nodded, a little sheepishly. “Right. Khajiit. Anyway, I think you’re right, but I don’t know for sure. She won’t talk.”
Pinkie nodded, then sat up, wincing a bit at the complaints of her muscles. Looking around, she spotted the Nord sitting a little ways off, staring into the darkening sky. “Hey Jackie!” she shouted, and the woman whipped her head around, her face lighting up. In about two seconds, she was by them both, grinning down at her furry friend.
“You’re awake!”
Pinkie laughed. “Yep! And Pinkie has a question.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Why didn’t we just wait at the tower?”
“Too dangerous,” Rainbow said, and Applejack nodded.
“That tower’s a prime target for bandits or the like, and what with the hole in the side, we couldn’t keep you inside it in case it decides to come down. Best just to get you out of there so’s the guards don’t have to worry about you.”
“Oh. Okay! Second question: what’s eating you, Jackie?”
AJ blinked, and glared at Rainbow. The redhead shrugged. “Hey, she heard what the guards said all by herself. Cat ears, you know.” Applejack sighed.
“I said it already: I ain’t dragonborn.”
Pinkie locked eyes with her, her whiskers twitching. She didn’t really want to continue this – she had a feeling AJ wasn’t gonna be happy with her for a while – but something told her it was necessary. “You need to at least try.” Applejack glowered at her, and she fought the urge to wince and retreat. “You really do.”
“I don’t,” AJ replied, her expression hardening.
“Try what?” Rainbow asked.
“If you don’t try, you’ll never know for real certain sure.”
“I don’t need to try, I just know.”
“No, seriously, try what?”
Pinkie leaned forward, putting her face right up in Applejack’s. If she doesn’t try …
“If you don’t try, isn’t that kind of like lying?”
Applejack stared back, her scowl set. “Everybody’s deaf now, or something? Try what?”
The scowl faded, and Applejack sighed, turning away from them both. “Try this, Rainbow.” The Nord inhaled, and Pinkie felt her nose twitch. “FUS.” A burst of blue energy tore from her mouth, the wind of its passage reaching back and ruffling her fur, despite being on the other side of her friend. The Khajiit heaved a sigh, and reached for AJ’s hand, taking it and squeezing it.

As one, they felt it, and as one, they reacted, each taking their stance, taking a breath, and speaking the words. And the mountain rumbled.

Rainbow gaped. “Wait … wait, so that was Shouting? “ Applejack nodded, her expression grim. “So, then that means, you are d-“
 The clap of thunder cut her off, drawing everyone’s eyes to the sky even as the ground beneath them began to shake. Following on the heels of the thunder were voices, as rolling and booming as the thunder itself, carrying a message to all of Skyrim. The shaking of the earth faded with the voices, and in their wake, silence reigned.
“Wooooow. That was loud.”
“Thank you, Miss Obvious,” Rainbow said, drawing a giggle from the Khajiit.
“Silly Dashie, that’s not Pinkie’s name!”
The Imperial gave Pinkie a glare, and shook her head. “That’s not what – never mind. Anyone know what that was?”
“The Greybeards, up on their mountain,” said AJ her eyes glued to the massive peak that dominated the landscape. “That mountain there,” she said, pointing to it, “is the Throat of the World, and at its peak lies High Hrothgar, the home of the Greybeards. They are masters of the Voice.”
Rainbow scratched her head. “The Voice?”
“Shouting.”
The redhead’s eyes widened. “That was them Shouting?”
Applejack nodded. “Rumor is that they can kill a man by speaking to him.”
“After that, I believe it.” They were all silent for a time, each with their thoughts, Pinkie looking between the two humans and testing her legs and arms. Eventually, Applejack rose and secured her belt.
“We best be going,” she said, and moved to pick up the stretcher again. Pinkie held up a hand.
“Pinkie wants to try walking.” Both humans gave her a look, but she ignored them, scooting off the stretcher and getting her legs underneath her.
“Pinkie, no,” AJ said, and Rainbow shook her head at the cat. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
“Psssh, Pinkie’ll be fine,” she said, and tried to stand, sighing as the attempt failed. Of course her legs were too weak to get her up. “We’ll move faster if Pinkie isn’t being carried. Just help her get up.”
“Sugar cube, I really don’t think you should-“
“Jackie, Pinkie’s not budging on this. Help her stand up, okay?” The Khajiit caught the Nord’s eyes in hers, extending her hands to both women. Rainbow took hers, and looked at Applejack, waiting. The blonde sighed.
“Fine. But if you take a spill, its back onto the stretcher.”
“Okey dokey lokey!” Pinkie replied, grinning, and with the help of her friends, was on her feet. Her legs felt shaky, but after a test step, she nodded. She could do this. It wasn’t all that far to Whiterun. “Pinkie will need support. But she can do this.”
 
“You know,” Rainbow said, as they approached the Whiterun stables, “that word the Greybeards shouted. I’ve heard it before.”
Applejack and Pinkie both looked at her in surprise. “Where?” AJ asked.
“At Helgen,” she said, softly. “The dragon was shouting it as I escaped.” Her brow wrinkled as she tried to recall the exact words. “I think it said … tell the dovahkiin that his days are numbered. And something about coming for him. But it definitely said ‘dovahkiin.’ I remember that.”
She looked across at Applejack, shifting to allow Pinkie a better grip on her arm. “Any idea what it means?” The Nord shook her head.
“What does Fus mean?”
They both blinked, looking at Pinkie, and Applejack replied. “Force.”
Now it was her turn to get the stares. “So it’s not just a magic word,” said Rainbow. “What is it, Elvish?”
Pinkie shook her head. “Nah, that’s not any kind of mer tongue. Where’d you learn it?”
Applejack flushed, and Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “You remember that shrine in the barrow?”
“Yeah,” the Imperial said, suspicious.
“Oooh, where we fought that draugr and he Shouted at us and then I killed him and took his axe?”
“Yes, Pinkie. There. Well … when I looked at the wall, one of the words on it popped out at me, and next thing I knew, I knew the word.” She was very specifically avoiding eye contact, and Rainbow frowned. This whole thing was getting very fishy.
“I remember I asked you if anything was wrong, and you said it was all fine,” she said, a hint of accusation in her voice.
AJ sighed. “I’m sorry, Rainbow. I can’t really explain it well, but when I learned the word, it just … it just didn’t seem odd. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, and I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“Not a big deal? You just magically learn a word off a dragon shrine in a tomb full of walking dead and that’s not a big deal?”
“I’m not saying it wasn’t,” AJ replied, her voice soft. “Just, at the time, it didn’t look like one. I can’t excuse it, Rainbow, and looking back, not saying anything was just plain stupid. But I didn’t, and I’m sorry.”
Rainbow opened her mouth to retort, and caught herself. That had been sincere, not sarcastic. Check yourself, Dash; AJ’s not street or thief. She means what she says, and really, with all that’s happening, she doesn’t need you giving her grief. She closed both her eyes and her mouth, took a couple deep breaths, and quashed her anger. “Right,” she said. “Right. That’s okay.” She looked up at Applejack and gave her the best smile she could manage. “And I mean, who’s to say the wall didn’t mess with your head, too?”
Applejack returned the smile. “Thanks, Rainbow.”
“D’aaawwwww! You girls are too cute!” AJ flushed, looking away, and Rainbow slapped her forehead, not quite managing to suppress a snicker. Trust Pinkie to completely kill the tension.
“So,” she said, still trying not to giggle, “we know what Fus means. What about Dovahkiin?”
“Well it’s obviously dragon language, since it was said by a dragon,” Pinkie supplied, “and fus is probably dragon language too, because it was on a dragon shrine and written in that weird scratchy and dotty writing that was also on the Dragonstone, and Farengar said that was written in dragon, and hey!” she exclaimed, pointing into the air and immediately stumbling, forcing her companions to catch her. “Mr. Wizard knows dragon, maybe he could tell us!”
“Pinkie, honestly!” Applejack chided. “You wanted to walk, keep actual hold of us.”
“Sorry.”
“That’s not a bad idea, though,” Rainbow said. “That mage is way too into dragons. He’d probably know what it meant off the top of his head.”
“Well, we’re going to the palace anyway. Or at least one of us is,” Applejack said, looking at Pinkie. “We should take you to the Bannered Mare, first, and get you set in a room.”
“Nothing doing!” Pinkie replied, as chipper as could be, and Rainbow had to suppress another snicker. “Pinkie’s feeling stronger with each step, and there’s no way in the wide wide world of Nirn that Pinkie’s gonna miss a chance to tell about how we killed a dragon!”
“Pinkie-“
“Nope!”
“Pink-“
“Nooooo.”
“Pi-“
“No, no, nono no!”
“You might as well give up, AJ,” Rainbow said, chuckling. “You’ll get her singing next.”
“Oooooo, Pinkie should totally make up a song for this! Okay, what rhymes with dragon? Wagon, flagon, braggin’, swaggin’, naggin’, taggin’, baggin’, laggin’, craggin’, fraggin’ … uh … draggin’, but that’s like exactly like dragon and that’s kind of weak, but maybe-”
Her two friends groaned. The trip up to the palace had just gotten a lot longer.

There was no trouble for them at the gate this time; the same guard they had met the last two times signaled the gate to open the moment he saw them, and saluted as they approached, drawing a raised eyebrow from Rainbow, a giggling grin from Pinkie, and a solemn nod from Applejack. “Is the dragon dead?” he asked as they passed, falling into step.
“Yes,” replied AJ, her face grim. “I’m sorry – most of your fellows died in the battle.”
The guard nodded his face matching hers. “They died with honor. Shor will welcome them to his hall. I will take you to the palace,” he said, stepping in front of them and gesturing to two other nearby guards. They formed a buffer around the women, forging a path through the gathering crowd by dint of presence and pushing shields.
Applejack stared at the people, somewhat taken aback by how many there were. She had thought the meeting at Riverwood was a throng – they’d barely made it to the merchant square and the crowd was already twice that. More guards had joined as they went, their shields and bodies reinforcing the wall that kept the people back, and if it weren’t for them, their chances of reaching the palace would have probably been nothing.
“What is goin’ on?” she asked, her voice little more than a murmur.
“They wanna know about the dragon, of course,” Pinkie replied, ears swiveling this way and that. “Can’t you hear them asking?”
Applejack blinked, and looked at Rainbow, who gave her a nod. “Rumor travels, AJ. Ten septims says that us going out to fight it was city-wide half an hour after we left.”
“No bet, Dashie,” Pinkie said, largely walking on her own, now. “You’d win hands down.”
Now that she listened for it, she could make out words here and there in the general clamor, cries of “Where’s Irileth?” or “Is it dead?” and, worst of all, “Where’s Eric? Where’s my son?” She shook her head, and forged onward. It was for the Jarl to tell the people.
 

 
The palace doors swung open, and the three women strode in, their escort lining the entrance. The gate guard led their way, approaching the throne and dropping to one knee. The Jarl rose, his steward on his right, and a large Nord, particularly barbaric in appearance, to his left. “Greetings, Leif,” Balgruuf said, nodding to the guard. “And welcome on your return, warriors. You bring news of the dragon?”
Applejack stepped forward, and bowed her respect; behind her, Rainbow and Pinkie did the same. “Yes, Jarl. The dragon is slain.”
The court, which had been deathly silent, erupted in noise, cries of acclaim and thunderous applause echoing from every wall and corner. The Jarl held up a hand, and the court fell silent once again. “And what of Irileth? You bear her token, I see, so I assume she lives.”
Applejack nodded, standing straight, now. “She does. She stayed at the tower with those who survived to keep the place safe. I – I regret to say, my Jarl, that over half of those who went died in the battle.”
Balgruuf closed his eyes, his expression pained, and hung his head. The silence stretched, as all present followed suit. Eventually, he spoke. “They died in service to Whiterun, defending their home and those they loved. We give them to the care of Arkay, and wish them well on their way to Sovngarde. Proventus!” he barked, and the steward stepped forward. “Arrange a relief detail and send them to the tower the moment they are ready.”
“At once, Jarl!” the Imperial said, and left the room.
“The dead will be honored as is fitting for warriors!” Balgruuf announced to the court. “But for now, I must confer with these brave ones! Leif.” The guard raised his head, stood, and saluted. “You may tell the people that the dragon is dead, and that they may listen for the heralds for further news.” The guard turned smartly on his heel, and all but ran for the door.
“As for you three,” Balgruuf said, turning his attention to the women, “come with me. I would hear more of this.”
 

 
“It sounds,” the Jarl said, rising from the table and moving to rim of the Great Porch, “as though you all live by the grace of Stendarr alone.”
“I believe it,” Applejack said, still seated. Beside her, Rainbow grunted an acknowledgement, and took another sip of her mead.
“Nelkir,” the Jarl said, drawing the attention of the boy that had joined them. “You have recorded the account?”
“Yes, father,” he replied, quill in hand, the parchment in front of him still glistening with the fresh ink.
“What have you learned, regarding the dragons?”
The boy did not answer immediately, looking back over the parchment as he thought. “They are tough. Very, very tough. The tower fell on this one, and it got back up.” He paused, tapping his chin with the feather of the quill, then continued. “It has both fire and frost breath, its hide is like armor, and in the air … I think only magic works well.”
“That, or you need better arrowheads,” Rainbow put in. “Iron can’t get through its scales easily, but I bet a tougher head could. My daggers got through, after all.”
“So did Pinkie’s axe!” the Khajiit said. “But that’s not an arrow at all.”
“Aye,” Balgruuf answered, turning back to the table. “You may be right, Miss Dash. Tell me … was this the dragon that burned Helgen?”
Rainbow heaved a sigh, and shook her head. “I’m sorry, but no. The one at Helgen was bigger. A lot bigger. And black as ebony. This one was … what, green? Brown?”
“Something like that,” Applejack said. The Jarl sighed.
“So there is more than just one dragon. And if there are two … we must assume there are more than two. Well, Whiterun shall be prepared, at least. One last question, for you three. When the dragon died, did anything ...” he paused, considering his words. “Did anything strange happen?”
Both Rainbow and Pinkie looked straight at Applejack, whose expression had gone flat. The Jarl looked between them, eyebrows raised, expectant. “Well, Jackie?” Pinkie asked, poking the Nord in her pelt-lined shoulder.
“If you don’t wanna say it, I will,” Rainbow offered, but Applejack shook her head.
“No, Rainbow, it’s mine to say. Jarl,” she started, then sighed. “Jarl, when the dragon died, it began to burn. The fire was like some kind of magic, golden flame, only halfway there, and the smoke was the same way. We all thought it was going to explode, or something … but the flesh just burned away, and gathered up in that smokey mass, and then it-“
She stopped, closing her eyes, her face looking pained. “Then it came to me. And … and sank in. I can’t really explain what happened next, but it was … strange. And I blacked out for a while. Later on, some of the men said I had to be Dragonborn.”
The other Nord at the table, the one who had been at the Jarl’s side in Irileth’s usual place, stood to his feet. He was an imposing figure, with dark red war paint over his eyes, and scaled leather armor, the skull of some horned creature attached as a shoulder guard. “Then it is true, brother,” he said, addressing the Jarl. “You heard the summons. They must be for her.”
“All of Skyrim heard the summons, Hrongar. But yes, I agree,” Balgruuf said, looking directly at Applejack. “You do not seem pleased.”
She hung her head. “Beg pardon, Jarl. I know, it’s an honor. But me? Dragonborn? Summoned by the Greybeards? I’m just a farm girl from Riverwood. I raise apples.”
“You’ve also, in the past month, taken down bandits, giant spiders, draugr, and now, a dragon,” Rainbow said, raising an eyebrow as AJ shot her a glare. She shrugged. “Just sayin’.”
“You’re the one as actually killed it.”
“Yeah, and I’d have had a great chance to do that if you hadn’t, oh, blocked its frost breath with your body, or blinded it with your mace, or pinned it with an axe in its mouth.”
“Rainbow,” she said, her voice flat.
“The Greybeards have summoned you,” the Jarl said, cutting off whatever reply she might have had. “You know they cannot be denied.”
She sighed. “I know.” He nodded.
“I would have you set off immediately … but you should have time to rest. And there is the matter of your reward, for your services rendered to Whiterun,” he said, standing and beckoning to his steward, who stepped forward. “But it grows late, and that can wait for the morrow. Proventus, give them a room for the night, and see to it that there are places for them at the tables.” The Imperial nodded, and the three women rose at his gesture.
“Should I make arrangements for a ceremony?” he asked, and the Jarl nodded.
“We shall, actually. See me when they are settled.”

The room was not grand, as palace rooms went, but it was spacious, and, most importantly, featured three beds. Rainbow was the first out of her armor, shedding the leathers with alacrity and piling it next to her pack. Pinkie was next, her torn and ragged vest laid out on the floor, the Khajiit giving it a forlorn look. “Pinkie’s gonna need a new vest.”
“Frankly, you’re lucky you don’t need a new gut,” AJ said, struggling with the straps on her armor. Damn things didn’t want to come apart. Pinkie giggled.
“Or new legs!”
“Or new legs. Sakes, girl, you gotta be more careful.”
“Right, and you’re one to talk, AJ,” Rainbow put in, flopping down on a bed. “Throwing yourself in front of dragon breath? Not exactly the most careful thing to do.” The room fell silent, Applejack’s hands frozen on the straps. She shivered at the memory, and the mental image of just what it might have done to Dash. “Thanks, by the way,” Rainbow continued. “I think that would have killed me. Don’t know how it didn’t kill you.”
Applejack snorted, shaking her head and tugging at the leather. “I’m a Nord. That breath? Bad, sure, but a Skyrim winter is worse. ‘Specially last year’s.” She grunted, straps creaking in protest as her fingers slipped. “Did a number on these consarned ties, though.”
The Imperial swung off the bed and walked over, bending down to get a closer look at the straps. She gave a low whistle. “These are shot, AJ. That’s some weirdness. They’re, like, fused together,” she said, and reached for her daggers.
“What are you doin’?” the Nord asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Need to cut them,” she said, and slipped the blade between the pelt and the tie. A twist of the dagger, and the strap snapped. “You should give it a once over, just to make sure there’s nothing else wrong with it.”
Applejack nodded, finding her breathing coming easier as her friend cut the straps, and started tugging at the pelts and plates, to loosen them. Before long, her armor was laid out on the floor as well, and she was rolling her shoulders, and rubbing her neck, working out the soreness. “Mmm... feels good to be out of that.”
“Dunno how you stand all this weight,” Rainbow said, separating out the pelts from the breast and back plates, checking each for damage.
“Years of apple-hauling,” she replied, and bent down to help, Pinkie joining in as well. “Plus, I’ve been dealing with it for the past month. I get used to it.” She cast a critical eye over the metal, largely ignoring the pelts. Frost like that couldn’t do much to a good hide, but iron … “Looks like it should be alright. Just needs new straps.”
“You should probably think about an upgrade, though. Don’t get me wrong, AJ, you did a darn good job with this, but it’s still scrap iron. What with that whole Dragonborn thing, some real steel would be a good idea.”
Dragonborn. Gods, but why her? She slumped back, dropping her face into her hands, thoughts whirling. It wasn’t long before she felt hands on her shoulders, and cracked open her fingers to look around. Pinkie and Rainbow had moved to her sides, both of them looking at her with concern. “Tell us about it, Jackie,” the Khajiit said. She closed her eyes, then nodded.
“I don’t want this,” she started. They had moved to one of the beds, Applejack seated in the middle with other two girls’ arms around her. “I don’t.”
“Why not?” Rainbow asked, and she gave her a sharp look. “Hey, not saying you should. Just asking why not.”
She sighed. How to explain this? “Dragonborn are … Emperors. Heroes. They belong in bard songs and on thrones, Dash. I’m just Applejack; farm girl and sometime fighter. I ain’t no hero.” Pinkie and Rainbow gave each other a look, then turned it on her, raised eyebrows on each face. “What?”
“We kind of went over this with the Jarl, AJ,” Rainbow said. “In the past month - bandits, spiders, draugr, dragon. And heck, we survived a giant.”
“She’s right,” Pinkie added. “It’s already ballad worthy.” The cat poked her in the ribs. “So what else is goin’ on here, Jackie?”
Applejack hung her head. “I … I don’t want it, girls. I came to Dragonsreach to tell the Jarl because it had to be done. I went to get the Dragonstone because he asked, and because it was a way to help. I went to fight the dragon because I wasn’t gonna let you do it alone, Rainbow,” she said, nuding the Imperial, “and because if it threatened Whiterun, it threatened home.” Home. “But Dragonborn?” She sniffed, tears forming in her eyes. “And the Greybeards calling me? By the Nine, Rainbow, when am I gonna get to go home?
“I just …” She buried her face in her hands, her voice catching. “I just … Oh, Apple Bloom.” Her shoulders began to shake, sobs wracking her form. Her friends put their arms around her, and put their heads to hers.

Applejack paused, wiping her brow and squinting. The mist was tremendously thick today; unseasonably so, even. She could barely see but two paces ahead, and just far enough to see the edges of the path. Still, that was enough to keep following it, at least. Dark pillars loomed to either side of her, tree trunks barely glimpsed through the roiling fog, but she knew they held no threat. She knew this path. She knew these trees. This was her orchard, and this was her home.
To her left, a shadow walked, huge and silent. She took comfort in its presence, knowing the she was not alone. She had never been alone. That shadow had been with her all her life, as sure as the seasons changed. She turned to her right, where another walked, this one small and bouncing, echoes of laughter flitting around its form. She smiled; this one had only started to follow her recently, and she cared for it, as her brother had cared for her.
Ahead of her, the path dipped, and she picked up the pace. The mist was growing darker, though it still roiled white beside her; evidence that she was approaching her destination. She made a final leap, her memory carrying her over the first of the roots and guiding her steps through the following tangle. The roots grew thicker, as they led into each other and fused into one, leading, finally, to the source of the darkness. The massive trunk of the oldest tree in the orchard towered above her, so big around that it might as well have been a wall of wood.
“Hello, Cornerstone,” she murmured, leaning up against the cool, smooth bark, and breathing heavily of the tree’s scent. Memories came rushing back, and with them the echoes of sound and the hints of shapes in the mist; shadows that might have been her cavorting amongst the old tree’s roots, to the tunes of half-remembered melodies, and the laughter of nearly forgotten voices. Her smile returned, and she sighed, content. She belonged here, at home.
“Hin silii hind.” The voice was deep, rumbling, and she frowned. The words stuck in her mind, but she did not know them. “Your family. Your farm. All you ever wanted.”
She nodded. “I once dreamed of more, and went looking. But it wasn’t what I thought.”
“Ful hindde rovaan.  Do you know yourself, joor?”
Applejack turned, frowning, to find the source of the voice. Within the mist, the shadows had vanished, chased away by the looming presence of something huge, and powerful, and shadow in the mist to rival that of Cornerstone. She felt it as it moved, and watched as the eyes appeared, glowing with a golden, ethereal flame.
She stared back, and adjusted her hat. “What kind of fool question is that? Of course I know myself.”
The eyes narrowed, and the voice chuckled. “Joorre los alun meyye.  If that is so, whence comes your form?”
She cocked her head, and looked down at herself, puzzled. Nothing seemed out of place; she had everything, after all. “What are you talking about? I’ve always been like this.”
“Oh?” the voice said, for the first time surprised. “Then what of this?” A claw, limned in the same, golden flame, stirred the mist, weaving light and dark into a distinct shape. Applejack leaned forward a bit, looking closely. It was her, sure enough, standing tall and armored, helmet on her head and maces in her hands.
“What of it?” she asked. The voice really wasn’t making much sense at all. “I haven’t worn armor all that much, true, but what with all that’s happened, you can’t blame me for it now.”
The eyes blinked, and there followed laughter, deep enough to shake the earth on which she stood. “Aam, munax dez!” it cried, and she narrowed her eyes. It kept speaking in that tongue, which she was sure she should know, but didn’t. “Fin joor los ful kreh, rekii miin lo ek!”
“Look,” she growled, “if you’ve got a point, get to it. I ain’t here to be laughed at.”
The voice sobered, and the eyes returned to stare at her; the presence behind it suddenly heavy, and twice as real. “No. You are not. You are here to see, joor.” The glowing eyes shifted downward, and the ethereal claw stirred the mist once more, rolling the shadows about and shaping them. "Behold," the voice said, low and rumbling, "where the paths you walk may lead."
She watched; in truth, she couldn’t look away. A city she recognized, its walls half-crumbled, and a grand palace seated atop a hill, burned; white flames licking over darkened stone, as the smoke rolled up in great gouts of shadow. Winged forms swarmed about the burning city, stooping to snatch at fleeing figures, and breathe torrents of misty flame and foggy frost, again, and again, and again. Above the scene, a larger form circled, slowly and surely, a black spot in the grey sky, watching the carnage below.
The scene shifted; the shape of the city had changed, to one she no longer recognized, but the flames remained, as did the creatures she knew were dragons, and circling above, the black spot that watched. City after city flitted past, each burning under the assault of the dragons; until finally, even the White Gold Tower, which had stood since before any could remember, was wreathed in dragon flame.
“They bring the end of all things,” the voice said, little more than a whisper in her ear. “The world will perish and be purified. The taint of mortals will be swept away, and the abomination that is Mundus will be ended.” She shivered at the words, and closed her eyes, unable to watch any longer. “Everyone will die.”
“Apple Bloom,” she whispered, and voice rumbled an agreement.
“Family. Friends. Home.”
“Why show me this?” she asked, voice cracking.
“It is only the truth.”
“But why me, consarn it?” she shouted, tear-rimmed eyes flying open as she stomped the ground. “Why me?”
The eyes did not move, or blink, but only stared back at her; and the voice, when it spoke, had no trace of mercy. “You are blessed, and you are cursed. Of all the mortals, you may rise; of all the mortals, you may fight; in this era, the world will look to you, and whether it lives or passes on will rest upon your shoulders.”
The mists roiled again, stirred by the claw, and she saw herself once more, armed and armored, standing at the top of a pile of bones. Her image raised her head to the skies, and opened her mouth. Though she made no sound, the echo of her cry rang in Applejack’s soul, and she choked; sorrow and anger flooded through her, in answer to the cry, and a burning, savage lust for blood.
“Become the destroyer, and they will fail. Crush them beneath your heel and shatter them with your voice, and the world will continue. Embrace the power, and you may stand a chance.”
She backed up, shaking her head, and turned away from the monster the mist had made her. “No,” she sobbed. “I can’t do that. I can’t.”
“Then you abandon the world.” She ran into wood, and slumped against the solid presence of Cornerstone, body wracked by sobs. “You abandon your home.” The eyes floated in front of her, two sets of golden claws now working the mist, shaping it into the shadows that had walked with her. She made to shout, but could not, her voice choked off by her sobbing.
“You abandon these to die,” the voice said, and both shadows went up in golden flame. They writhed, as if in pain, but made no sounds as the flame overtook them, and began to spread. The tongues of fire licked over ground, and wood, racing across the surface of the tree. They climbed to the top, the mist fleeing before them, and revealing the massive, leafy boughs of her oldest tree; those, they devoured too.
She cowered, surrounded by fire, her eyes flooded with tears, unable to do more than give a wordless cry. “Remember, Applejack; but for you, all the world will burn.” The flames reached her, finally, and she screamed, kicking. It was no use. They covered her, too, and the world was lost to fire.
 

“AJ!” Someone was atop her, hands on her shoulders. She cried out in panic, and swung, blindly, trying to knock her assailant off. In the blink of an eye, she found her arm pinned against the attacker’s side, and a hand on her throat. Fuchsia eyes, wide and panicked, stared into hers, and she froze.
“Rainbow?” The Imperial nodded, jaw clenched and lips pressed tightly together. Applejack let her eyes rove, and noted the same tension in every line of the woman’s form; battle-ready. Duelist. She closed her eyes, the image of Rainbow with her dagger pressed against Gedel’s throat coming to mind. She’d been tense then, too. “I’m alright, Rainbow.”
Slowly, shakily, the Imperial removed her hand from the Nord’s throat, and shifted to the side of the bed, crossing her legs and rubbing her arms. Applejack rose to a sitting position, and looked around the room; the rays of the morning sun were filtering through the spaces between the heavy curtains, which explained why she hadn’t woke with the sunrise. A twinge of guilt hit her, but she forced it down. After yesterday, she had earned some extra sleep.
“Bad dream?” Rainbow asked, and Applejack nodded.
“I was in … somewhere. There was a lot of fog. And a pair of eyes. Trees, too.” She frowned. “And something about … flames.” She shook her head. “Can’t remember more than that.”
“You were crying.”
She reached up to her face, and her hand came away wet. Well, that would explain why the room was blurry. Blinking away the last of the tears, she turned, and gave Rainbow a smile. “Thanks.”
The Imperial shrugged. “No problem.”
Applejack looked around, and frowned. “Where’s Pinkie?”
“Dunno. I just woke up, too.”
“Well, if she’s out and about, we’d best get moving too,” she said, swinging her legs off the bed and heading for her pack. She’d have to wear the good tunic, and just be careful with it. This was a palace, after all; she’d have to look her best.
 

 
“So,” the old Khajiit said, folding his hands before him, and holding her gaze with his own. “They let you inside.”
She nodded, her pink mane flopping about. “Yep! Pinkie checked; the guards let her in and out whenever they like!” She frowned. “She likes, she means. If they only did it when they like Pinkie probably wouldn’t get back inside much. But maybe she would.”
Ri’saad held up a paw, to forestall the rambling, and she fell silent. “How was this accomplished?” he asked.
She grinned, or rather, grinned wider. “Pinkie killed a dragon.”
Three of the cats scoffed, the mage Ma’randru-jo saying how such a thing was impossible. Once again, however, Ri’saad held up a paw, and the group fell silent. “The art of the bold-faced lie is a difficult and useful one, and one that this kit never mastered. What tale have you for us, kit?”
Grinning as wide as ever, she launched into the story, starting with the giant. She showed them her axe, and told of how she won it from the barrow lord, and of the celebration that had followed. She glossed over the travel time, and focused instead on how she had gained entry to the city in the first place; the other cats all nodded their appreciation of the trickery. And when she reached the dragon itself, they were riveted; she could not have asked for a more perfect audience. But then, Khajiit had always had a greater appreciation for the art of tale-telling.
Ri’saad, though, bore the countenance of the elder; the stoic smile, the thoughtful nod, the musing murmur. As she finished her tale, the furrowing of his brow told her that he was thinking, and she knew there would be a question to follow. “The Nord,” he said, his voice nearly a purr, “you say she is special. That the others call her Dragonborn.” Pinkie nodded.
“Is she Septim?”
She looked at him, confused. “Applejack’s a Nord, not a coin.”
For a moment, there was silence, and then a round of chuckles. “Nay, kit. Of the line of Septim. The Emperors of old.”
“Ooooohh,” she said, and frowned. “Don’t know. She never said. Don’t think so, though. They’d probably make a bigger deal out of it than they have if she was.”
The old cat nodded. “Still. Dragonborn. A threat to dragons, yes? A greater mark of destiny than you thought, Atahbah.”
The old cat’s wife ducked her head, chuckling. “Nay, husband. Not greater.”
Ri’saad raised his eyebrows, but shook his head at his wife’s look. “Not greater, than. Still. This Applejack will be an important person, yes … and one that, I think, we will wish to keep alive. Kit.”
Pinkie nodded. “Pinkie was planning on sticking with her anyway. She’s good people.”
“Good. I rather feel she will need you.”
 

 
Rainbow scowled, and the boy wisely ran off before she made up her mind to give him a cuff around the ears. Brat. Running into her like that. She toyed with the idea of giving chase, but shook it off. It wouldn’t be worth it, and besides, that would just be petty. Petty was for those who could be goaded into a duel; like Captain Matius.
She groaned. And here she’d almost forgotten the blasted dream, not to mention the events of the morning. Way to go, Rainbow. Real good work there. Makes total sense to wake your friend up, just to try and strangle her back to sleep. Real smooth. And, of course, AJ was too damn good a person to bring it up. “Hells!” she cried, throwing her hands in the air, and drawing a couple stares. Enough was enough! AJ clearly didn’t care, or she understood, or whatever, so Oblivion take it if she was going to either!
“You alright there, sugar cube?”
Right. Of course. She would be standing right behind her. “Just fine!” Rainbow said, turning around slowly and pasting what had to be a painfully obvious smile on her face. Oh hells, she wasn’t alone; another Nord woman was standing beside AJ, and looking at her like she had grown two heads. Or like she had just randomly thrown her hands into the air and invoked the hells. Well, time to try and save face. “Hi!” she said, and extended her hand.
The woman took it, slowly, and they shook, Rainbow making sure she kept her smile on. “Rainbow Dash, this here is my cousin Alfhild.”
“Good to meet you,” the Nord said, and Rainbow nodded.
“Same here.” She shifted, nervous, as the woman gave her a critical once-over, and shot a questioning look at Applejack.
“Alfhild’s … insisting on helping us,” her friend said, a slight look of annoyance on her face. “Apparently my good tunic isn’t quite up to court standards.”
“It’s the truth, cousin,” said Alfhild, evenly. “What you’re wearing is fine for a normal court appearance, but for a ceremony in your honor, it would insult the court. Olfrid will not mind, I think, if I lend you something.” She nodded. “No, he will not mind at all. Come, we are just up the hill.”
 
 
“Are you sure I can’t just wear my armor?” Rainbow asked, staring at the dress that Alfhild had picked for her. Dresses. Of course it was dresses. It was like the whole damn world of Tamriel had something against girls wearing pants. At least they wouldn’t leave her completely unable to move; Nords apparently liked being able to run. Or at least these Nords did. This was, after all, only the one city. Who knew what the norm was in other places? Still. Dresses. Gah.
“That depends,” said Alfhild, who was helping Applejack into her dress, which would be hilarious except for the fact that she was going to be wearing one herself. “What kind of armor is it?”
“Uh …”
“If my tunic ain’t good enough,” Applejack said, a scowl on her face, “then neither is our armor. Don’t get me wrong, Rainbow, it’s good armor, but it definitely ain’t fancy.”
The Imperial heaved a sigh, and started to untie her sash. “Of course it isn’t; it’s meant to actually be used.” No getting out of it. One thing she did know; they were in the Jarl’s good graces right now, his very good graces, and no good could come of insulting his court. Keeping up appearances was nothing she hadn’t done before.
The dress was a surprisingly good fit, and the faded green look pretty good on her, she had to admit. The bandana was to be left off, at Alfhild’s insistence; yet another concession to friggin’ courtly appearance. Ah, well. Just the one ceremony, and then that’d be all done with. She looked over at Applejack, and had to suppress a snicker; if anything, the Nord looked even more uncomfortable in it than she did. “Have … you ever actually worn a dress before?” she asked. Applejack shook her head, and this time she actually couldn’t suppress the snicker. “Seriously?”
“Rainbow, I worked a farm my whole life,” her friend replied, giving her a sardonic glare. “There weren’t exactly a lot of call for dressing fancy.”
Rainbow blinked, and, for a moment, pictured Applejack, knee deep in mud, surrounded by cows, and wearing one of the dresses the court ladies in Cyrodiil favored, all frilly and sporting a ridiculously stupid bustle. It was too much; she doubled over, laughing, unable to keep herself upright.
“And just what is so funny about that?” Applejack said, a touch of anger in her voice.
“It’s – pff – it’s not that!” she said, trying to force down the giggles. “I just imagined you in – hah – on the farm. In a dress. With a bustle!” Nope, she’d lost it again, and this time the laughter forced her to take a seat.
Applejack looked to her cousin, who was covering her mouth and trying not to giggle. “Alright, I’m lost. What’s a bustle?”
“It’s a Cyrodiilic fashion,” Alfhild replied. “They add a frame to the dress that, well …” She hesitated. “It makes your ass look really big.”
Applejack blinked. “How big?”
“Depends on the dress,” her cousin said, evenly. “The more conservative ones aren’t that bad, honestly. Others, well …”
“Some of them,” Rainbow managed, her breathing heavy, “some of them, you could smuggle a cow in.”
Applejack shot her cousin a disbelieving look, but Alfhild only nodded. AJ shook her head. “No offense, cousin, but noblefolk are crazy.”
“Oh, I know,” the woman replied, as they helped Rainbow back up to her feet. “From the stories I hear, we Nords are rather sane, compared to the rest.”
The Imperial nodded. “Oh yeah, the Imperial Court is ridiculous. ‘Course, nothing ever beats Daggerfall.”
“’Strewth,” the Nords said in tandem, and Rainbow snickered. Family resemblance, alright.
“We all set, cousin?”
“Just one last thing,” the woman said, opening a small chest beside the bed. Reaching inside, she pulled out two silver pendants, and proffered them to Applejack and Rainbow. “’Tis a loan, don’t forget. But some adornment is necessary.”
Applejack smiled at her, and slipped her pendant on, and Rainbow followed suit. The pendant wasn’t particularly heavy, which was good; she was already . “Thanks, coz.”
“You are welcome.”

Whiterun worked quickly. The market square had been converted from average to festive, with colored banners strung between the stalls and benches dragged into place, and the occasional table, set with food and trenchers alike. Stalls featured sweets, food, and drinks, and the people were already beginning the festivities.
The square around the Gildergreen, too, was set for the festivities, though there were no stalls here. Here people mingled, drinks in hand, and talked, and sang, and danced, cheering the bards and each other, and largely ignoring the frenzied preaching of Heimskr. He had taken a different tack, tonight, praising Talos for their deliverance from the dragon, and largely exhorting the masses to join him in his praise, rather than his usual fare of exhorting them to worship the Ninth Divine. Perhaps the tankard in his hand had had a part to play in that.
The Palace bore no decorations on its face, but inside was another matter entirely. The long tables of the hall were filled, not just with food, but with people; anyone rich enough to be considered of the nobility was there, along with their families. Men, women, and children alike shared table space, with no clear order to the seating arrangements.
A third, much smaller table had been placed on the raised portion of the hall, and seated the Jarl, his family, and his closest advisors. Today, however, Irileth, his housecarl, Farengar, his court wizard, and Proventus, his steward, had given up their usual locations at his right, in favor of the guests of honor; Applejack and Rainbow, simply but appropriately dressed, drew attention purely for their known role in the slaying of the dragon.
Pinkie was another matter. Khajiit, her presence in the hall at all, much less in a position of honor at the Jarl’s table, was the source of much discussion, and her garb only added to that. A brilliant red and trimmed in gold, the cloth looked as though it had been wrapped around her torso, rather than fitting as a normal dress would. A hood of the same, light material covered her head, cut to allow her ears to poke through; no one in the city had ever seen its like. The general consensus was that the outfit was tremendously Khajiiti, and quite possibly scandalous.
As for the women themselves, Applejack looked completely out of her depth, Rainbow seemed to have mixed feelings about the whole thing, and Pinkie was all smiles, and largely carrying the conversation
“Pinkie never did much like his face, see,” she was saying, idly slicing up another portion of beef, “so when he pressed his suit, she decided to look into things  a bit, and what he didn’t know is that Pinkie knows everyone. She found out pretty quickly that he was in deep with some bad sorts.”
“What kind of sorts?” The Jarl’s son, Frothar, was paying rapt attention; he had not, in fact, taken his eyes from the Khajiit from the moment she’d sat down. Pinkie chuckled, swiftly chewing and swallowing another portion of meat.
“Well, there were the thieves, but khajiit don’t mind that so much. It was more the murdering and kidnapping that was a problem,” she said.
Applejack gave a nervous look at the Jarl, and breathed a sigh of relief to find that he was simply paying attention to the story, and quietly eating; his steward, on the other hand, looked scandalized. She braced herself, as he opened his mouth to speak, and blinked in surprise when Irileth jabbed him in the side.
“Pinkie wasn’t about to let her sister get wrapped up in all of that, so she made a plan. First, she went to her sister, and let her know what was really going on, and then she got some friends together to help her out. He wasn’t a one-woman kind of cat, which was another thing Pinkie didn’t like about him, so Pinkie started flirting with him, only when her sister wasn’t there, of course.”
“Wait,” said Dagny; the jarl’s daughter, too, had been paying close attention. “If you didn’t like him, why’d you flirt with him?”
“It’s a trick, of course,” said Nelkir, giving Dagny a superior look. “She’s only making him think he likes her.”
“Really?” Dagny asked, looking at Pinkie, and the Khajiit nodded.
“Yep! He believed it, too. Pinkie didn’t even have to try very hard! So after a couple days, Pinkie invited him to a private meeting, in a house her friend owned.” Glances were exchanged around the table; Pinkie simply forged ahead. “He showed up, of course, and brought two of his thugs with him, because he was just a little paranoid, but Pinkie had planned for that. Her friend, see, knows plants and powders and potions, and when they stayed downstairs, she put a little powder in their drinks, and they went right to sleep.
“As for the kitty himself, well, he didn’t know that Pinkie knew a Cathay-Raht.” The table exchanged confused glances; apparently no one, not even Farengar, had a clue as to what she was saying.
“Uh, Pinkie?” Applejack said, after a moment’s awkward silence.
“Yeah, Jackie?”
“What’s a Cathay-Raht?”
The Khajiit stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Oh, silly Pinkie! She forgot that humans don’t know these things. Hm. How to explain,” she said, furrowing her brow. “It is kind of like with elves and humans; elves have Altmer, Bosmer, and Dunmer, humans have Redguard, Bretons, Nords, and Imperials. Khajiit have Ohmes and Ohmes-Raht, Suthay and Suthay-Raht, Cathay and Cathay-Raht and so very very many others. Pinkie is Suthay-Raht. Cathay-Raht is, eh …” She looked around, and nodded at Hrongar. “Think of him, then think about a two heads taller and even stronger.”
Applejack blinked. About the only man she could think of that was bigger than the Jarl’s brother was her own brother, and what Pinkie had just described … “Holy hells, that’s huge!” Rainbow said.
“Your friend would give a troll pause, I think,” put in Irileth, and Applejack nodded in agreement. Someone that big, armed, and armored, would be a real force on the battlefield, and based on Pinkie’s performance, at least, the Khajiit were no slouches when it came to battle.
“Yes,” Pinkie said, “so you can see why Mr. Meanie did not put up much of a fight.” There was a general murmur of assent, and she grinned. “So once Pinkie had him at her mercy, she stripped him and tied him up, and packed him in a barrel, and had that barrel put onto a ship heading for the Summerset Isles.”
The table fell silent once more, until Rainbow started laughing. “Damn, Pinkie! That’s … that’s evil!”
“Fitting, though,” said Irileth, a grim smile on her face. “I am sure Thalmor hospitality suited him well.”
“Probably!” Pinkie said, grinning. “After that, though, Pinkie had to leave Elsweyr.”
“Why’s that?” Frothar asked, and the table chuckled.
“Guy like that has friends in low places, kid,” Rainbow said. “And while they might not have really liked him all that much, they’d probably have come after Pinkie for what she did to him.” She chuckled. “Even if he was stupid enough to fall for it.”
“But what about your sister?” Dagny asked. “Wouldn’t they go after her?”
“Daddy owns half the city and likes to make points with fireballs,” Pinkie said.
“Oh.”
 
 
The meal was winding down, and the Jarl nodded to his steward, who rose and cleared his throat. Those closest to the Jarl’s table fell silent, but the mead had been flowing freely, and for the great majority of the hall, conversation and feasting continued. “People of Whiterun,” the steward announced, and Applejack raised an eyebrow. The Imperial had a proper set of pipes on him, for all he looked a touch on the scrawny side; he had certainly caught the attention of the crowd. “Your Jarl is about to speak.” Everyone was quiet, now, and all eyes were on Balgruuf.
The Jarl still intimidated her. It wasn’t his size, though he was by no means small; just, Big Macintosh was bigger. It was the way he carried himself; on most people, the fine, gold-trimmed clothes he wore would make them look soft, or pampered. On Balgruuf, it just made him look competent, as if he was exactly where he was meant to be, and that he’d got there by simply being the best. And he owned a city.
“People of Whiterun!” His voice, too, carried authority. The steward could shout, sure; Balgruuf seemed to be matching that volume without trying. There was no shout in his voice, he was just talking that loud. “Tonight, we honor heroes!” The court roared its approval, and it sounded not unlike a war cry. AJ grinned; they might be city folk and noble types, but they were still Nords.
“Yesterday,” the Jarl continued, “a dragon menaced our walls. Our soldiers went to meet it in combat, and we were the victors!” The court roared once again, cheering and clapping; even with the noise, though, the Jarl could be heard. “So tonight,” he said, “we feast! We honor our soldiers!” The court cheered. “We honor Irileth, who led them!” The cheers were now joined with whistles, to which the Dark Elf responded with a scowl. “And above all, we honor the dead.”
The court fell silent, the mood changing from celebratory to somber nearly instantly. “Fourteen sons of Whiterun gave their lives in the slaying of the dragon, and we raise a toast to them tonight. Proventus.” The steward rose once again, this time holding a scroll in front of him. He cleared his throat, and began to read.
Applejack watched the crowd, as the names were read. More than a few faces looked stricken, and her gut twisted. They were familiar. Very, very familiar. “Oh, mama,” she whispered. How long had it been? Right. Apple Bloom had just hit her tenth year.
The steward’s voice ceased, and the Jarl raised his tankard, everyone in court mirroring his action. Applejack shook off her thoughts, and raised her own. “To the honored dead!” the Jarl said, and the court repeated his words. “May their bodies rest easy in the embrace of Arkay, and their souls be well in Sovngarde!” Applejack slammed back her mead, and pounded the table with her now empty tankard; those soldiers deserved an enthusiastic toast, and it seemed the court agreed with her. More toasts were called to specific soldiers, and those that knew them well raised their tankards in response. The Jarl’s table, however, did not raise theirs again, and Applejack followed their example.
When the toasts were complete, the Jarl continued. “And finally,” he said, “we honor the three heroes dealt the dragon its death blows. Know this, my people; these three women bore no debt to Whiterun, they were given no promise of great reward, and they swore no oath to me. Yet still they went to face the dragon, and dealt it the final blow. They are worthy of honor!” The court roared again, and the cheers and applause seemed to shaked the table. Applejack blinked.
“They’re cheering rather hard,” she murmured, leaning over so Rainbow could hear her.
“Ten to one the soldiers have been telling stories,” the Imperial replied. AJ shook her head.
“No bet.”
“They are Rainbow Dash, a duelist of Cyrodiil!” the Jarl said, and Rainbow grinned and gave a bow, drawing both cheers and whistles from the court. “Pinkie Pie, a bard of Elsweyr!” The Khajiit curtsied, and the court cheered again. Applejack snorted; more than a few of the court had cried out “dragon taunter.” She had been wise not to take that bet.
“And finally,” the Jarl said, motioning the court to silence. “I give you Applejack, of the Riverwood Apples, warrior and true daughter of Skyrim!” The cheers and shouts shook the roof, showering the court with dust from the rafters. No one seemed to care; they were far too busy shouting their appreciation. For her. She stared, dumbstruck, until a sharp jab in her ribs got her attention. She gave Rainbow a sharp look, and received one in return.
“Take a bow, AJ,” the Imperial hissed, and jerked her head toward the court. AJ gulped, and did her best; it felt stiff and awkward, but it was a bow, and judging by the continued cheers, they didn’t much mind it. “They seem to like you,” Rainbow said, a smirk on her face.
“Yeah,” AJ replied, and returned to staring and waiting for the cheers to stop.
“You’re blushing.”
“I know.” She did. The heat in her cheeks was a dead giveaway.
“Not used to the wolf whistles, then?”
“No. No, I’m not.” Rainbow snickered, and AJ growled. “You’re not helping.”
“Sorry.” The cheers (and whistles) were dying down, much to her relief. She’d never faced this many people all at once, not even in the town meetings. Those were different, anyway; those people she actually knew. These, she didn’t.
The Jarl was motioning for silence, and, gradually, he got it. “I have decided that these heroes deserve the highest honor we can give them. To that end …” He turned to his steward, who had at some point acquired a leather-wrapped bundle, and nodded. Proventus placed the bundle on the table, and rolled it out, revealing three beautifully crafted axes. They were small weapons, about the size of a hatchet, with hafts of good steel. The blades themselves bore the horse of Whiterun, and AJ gasped. These were …
The Jarl picked up the first of them, and presented it to her, before doing the same for Rainbow and Pinkie. There was a slight glow to the weapon, now that she looked at it more closely; they were enchanted. “Oh mercy,” she whispered. He was going to …
“Rainbow Dash, Applejack, and Pinkie Pie. I name you Thanes of Whiterun. These weapons are symbols of your office; wear them proudly. You have earned them.”
This time, the cheers truly did shake the building. Applejack simply stared at the axe in front of her, shocked beyond words. Thane? Her? Not that it hadn’t happened to Apples before; there were a few out in Cyrodiil that were part of the Imperial Court, she knew, and Alfhild here in Whiterun was close enough to nobility as to make no real difference, but her? She was just Applejack. She was a farm girl from Riverwood.
Rainbow’s hand waving in front of her face snapped her out of it, and she looked over at the Imperial. “What?”
“What just happened?”
“He made us Thanes.”
Rainbow rolled her eyes. “I heard. I don’t know Skyrim’s titles. What’s a Thane?”
Applejack’s gaze shifted back to her axe. “Thanes are people the Jarl thinks his hold can’t do without,” she said, voice subdued. “Might be major landowners. Might have done somethin’ to earn it.”
“Like killing a dragon.” She nodded. “What are the perks?”
AJ gave Rainbow a look, and received one in response. Fair question, she supposed. Just a little mercenary. “It means you’re a noble. With all the rights of one. Within the hold, at least.” The Imperial blinked, and then grinned. AJ frowned, and narrowed her eyes. “It does not mean y’can just get away with anythin’, Rainbow.”
Her friend’s retort was forestalled by Jarl’s voice, once again addressing the crowd. “Yes!” he said, his voice cutting through the cheers. “The title is indeed well-earned! Whiterun gains great allies in her new Thanes, allies we will need in the coming days.”
“Great. It comes with chains,” Rainbow muttered. Applejack gave the barest of nods; she wouldn’t call them chains, but they were honor-bound to the city now, and to the Jarl. Not a big change for her, but for Rainbow and Pinkie, this would be their first official tie to anything in Skyrim.
“We are especially blessed, for among them is a figure of legend.” She looked up sharply at the Jarl, whose eyes were on the crowd, not her. Was he … ? “Last eve, the Greybeards Spoke. I have no doubt that all of Skyrim heard their summons. I tell you now that the one they called is our own Applejack. Yes, my people. The Dragonborn is a daughter of Skyrim, and your own thane!”
 

 
In all of Tamriel, there was no sky to match that of Skyrim’s. Certainly, the moons and the stars were visible on any clear night from any of the provinces, but only here could the train of Kynareth’s Gown be seen. The shimmering curtains of light were in proud view tonight; three brilliant walls of blue that outshone the stars and veiled the moons, and illuminated the world below in soft, soothing tones.
The beauty of it was lost on Rainbow Dash. She was merely thankful for the Gown’s light; without it, she’d have long since lost track of her friend. She’d had no trouble keeping up within Whiterun, of course. She didn’t know the city’s streets, but she did know cities, while Applejack didn’t. Once the Nord had left the city, though, it had gotten a lot harder, especially since she’d simply ignored the road and headed off in what appeared to be a completely random direction.
“Where the hell are you going, AJ?” Rainbow muttered, clambering over a rocky area. It was a darn good Nordic fashion was so practical, since it meant she was wearing good boots as opposed to some kind of stupid slipper. It also meant she’d been allowed to keep her daggers, which were a reassuring weight on her hips, but, she knew, would be wholly inadequate against something big or tough enough. Like a giant. Oh, Stendarr, please let them not run into any giants.
AJ finally came to a stop, looking up at a gargantuan pine. Rainbow slowed as she approached, also looking up at the pine. Was there something special about it? AJ hadn’t seemed to be looking for anything specific, but you never knew. Her eyes shifted back to the Nord, and drifted down to her belt; it was new, like her own, and there, next to AJ’s mace, was her Axe of Whiterun.
“So,” Rainbow said, taking a step forward to stand beside the Nord. “Nice tree.”
“It’s a Charek Pine. Good lumber tree,” Applejack said, her voice subdued. “Big one like that‘d bring in good money at Gerdur’s mill.”
“I bet.” Rainbow tilted her head to the side, and gave her friend a sidelong look. “Gerdur’s a week’s walk off that way, though,” she said, pointing in the general direction of Riverwood. “So that’s not why we’re out here.”
“No, it ain’t.” The Nord’s hand shifted from mace to axe, drawing the thane-symbol from her belt and weighing it in her hand. “My pa had an axe like this. Not a thane’s axe, mind. Just an axe.” She tossed it lightly into the air, caught it, tossed it again, catching it in a different place each time; back of the axe-head, butt of the haft, by the haft just under the head, half-way up. Rainbow raised an eyebrow; she hadn’t known AJ had that kind of dexterity.
“He called it his best friend. Let me and m’ brother practice with it. Taught us how to use it.” There was no warning; one moment, the axe was coming down into her hand, the next, it had thudded into the wood of the pine, a brief flare of green betraying its enchantment.
Rainbow gave a low whistle of appreciation. “Nice throw.”
“Mm.” She looked over at AJ; her friend was just staring at the axe, unmoving. Too bad it was just the two of them out here. Pinkie was a lot better at this kind of thing than she was. Still, she was here, and so it fell to her.
“So,” she said, stepping over to a convenient rock and taking a seat. “You gonna tell me what’s eating you, or am I gonna have to guess? Because I have to warn you, AJ, I’m terrible at guessing.”
The Nord sighed, and took a seat beside her. “It can’t be that hard to figure out.”
Rainbow arched an eyebrow at her. “No? ‘Cause, see, my first guess would be that you’re angry because he made you a Thane, but that’s a terrible guess.”
AJ gave her a skeptical look. “You can’t be serious.”
She wasn’t. But she didn’t want to guess. “Sure I can.”
AJ shook her head. “He called it out in front of the whole court, Rainbow. Named me Dragonborn to the most important people in the hold. The whole city will know by morning, all of Skyrim by the end of the month.”
“So you’ll be well-known. Like that wasn’t gonna happen as it was, what with killing a dragon and all.”
Applejack snorted. “This ain’t like that, Rainbow.”
“You sure?” she asked. “I’m not really seeing the difference.”
“There’s a world of difference between ‘someone who killed a dragon’ and ‘Dragonborn,’ Rainbow,” AJ said softly. “The first is someone you respect. Someone you tell stories about. Someone you look to as an example. I don’t mind all that.”
Rainbow leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. “Dragonborn isn’t?”
“Is and isn’t. It’s like …” She sighed. “It’s hard to explain. I’m not even sure I understand it myself.”
“Well, try anyways?”
“I am! Look, did you see how they looked at me after he named me?”
Rainbow nodded. There had been a marked difference in the crowd. The mood before had been admiring and proud, which was exactly as it should have been, given that they’d killed a dragon. A giant, scaly, toothy, fire and frost-breathing dragon who’d shrugged off having a tower fall on him. She shuddered, but shook it off. Thing was dead. Turned into a skeleton, even.
But after the Jarl had named her Dragonborn … if she thought about it, the looks the crowd had had were a little unsettling. They’d gone past admiring and right into awestruck, for the most part. A few, though … a few had looked almost hungry. Reminded her of some of the street rats back in Cyrodiil, how they’d stare at the bakery, or just hang out near the stores, just to get a chance at looking at some of the food. And turning that look on a person … she shuddered again.
“You don’t look at Dragonborn for examples. You look at ‘em like they’re kings. Or emperors. Or gods.” The Nord dropped her face into her hands, and Rainbow reached over and placed an arm over her shoulders. Just like last night. AJ didn’t want it. She couldn’t really blame her, either; so far, the upsides were rather difficult to see, if they existed.
She frowned. You know, if she didn’t want it … “You don’t have to go through with it, you know.” Applejack looked up her, brow furrowed in confusion. “Well, you’ve done enough, haven’t you? We told them about Helgen, we got them their stone, and we killed their dragon. Far as I can tell, we’ve done more than we had to, and if you want to just pack up and go home, no one has any say to the contrary.”
“The Greybeards-“
“Hang ‘em,” Rainbow said, cutting her off. “Old men on their mountain, right? They don’t know you, aren’t your family, aren’t your friends, aren’t your partners. They have no hold on you. You don’t want to do this, AJ, you don’t have to.”
AJ said nothing in response; she just turned her eyes to the axe, where it still lay in the tree’s trunk, her brow still furrowed. Her expression was of thought, though, and not of confusion. Rainbow decided to just sit there, hand on her shoulder, and let her think. She’d said her piece.
 
Waiting was hard. And AJ was a slow thinker, or something like that. Rainbow paused in her dagger play, and looked over at her friend, where she still sat on the rock, still looking at the axe. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought she was part of the rock, some kind of very life-like statue.
“Patience, Dash,” she whispered to herself. This was some kind of major life-changing decision the woman was thinking about here. Kind of like when she’d decided to skip out on Cyrodiil. Or earlier, even, back in Bravil. She’d never really thought about those decisions, though. Or most of them, really. “Yeah, and that worked out so well, too,” she muttered, balancing her dagger on her forefinger. Where would she be if she’d taken the time to think about things? A few things she certainly wouldn’t have changed, but others … yeah, some stuff had been really stupid. Really, really stupid.
She looked over at AJ again, and blinked. Something had changed; she could see it in the line of her friend’s body. She sheathed her daggers, and wandered back over, AJ looking up at her as she approached. The Nord turned her gaze back to the axe, and muttered something Rainbow couldn’t quite hear. “What’s that?”
AJ looked up at her again, and Rainbow blinked. The change was in her face, too; there’d been fear, or some cousin to it, all through it before, and that was gone. She looked, now, kind of like she had when she’d tossed herself in front of the dragon, or when she was sighting on her bow. “All the world will burn,” she said, and Rainbow blinked again.
“What?”
“The old legends, the ones Granny taught me when I were a babe, talk of dragons,” the Nord said, rising from her seat. “They say the dragons return at the end of time. When it’s time for the world to die.”
Rainbow frowned, brow furrowing. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
AJ laughed. “Neither do I. But the dragons are here, and I don’t think they’re just here to mark the end of time. I think they’re here to actually end it. All the world will burn.”
This was … morbid. And rather unsettling. “So … what?”
“So,” said Applejack, as she walked over to the tree, “here I am. Dragonborn. Something out of legend, right when dragons are coming back. Someone who can take their souls.” She placed a hand on the axe’s haft, and looked at Rainbow. “Coincidence?”
“When you put it that way …” she said, and AJ nodded.
“Seems mighty unlikely, hm?” She pulled on the axe, and it popped out of the trunk, flashing green in the Gown-lit night. “I don’t want it, Rainbow. But here I am. Dragonborn. And if I don’t do anything, who will?”
Rainbow thought for a minute. Dragons. Who could take them on and hope to win? A king, maybe, with his armies. But Skyrim’s king was dead, or so she’d heard, and the Empire wasn’t in any great state to take on things like dragons. And the elves … well, maybe they could, but you couldn’t trust the elves. “I don’t know,” she said.
“Right.” AJ looked at her axe, running her thumb over the horse of Whiterun. “I like this world, Rainbow. It’s got my family in it. I don’t want to be Dragonborn, but I am. And if I don’t try … how could I face Apple Bloom?”
Rainbow nodded. Figures that little girl was the deciding factor; you didn’t have to spend long with Applejack to figure out just how damned important her sister was to her. “So you’ll be going to answer the Greybeards, then?”
Applejack nodded, and placed her axe back in its belt loop. “It’s the best option at the moment,” she said, turning to look up at the sky. “At the very least, I need to know why they called me.”
 

 
She watched, silent, as the two women walked away, and her chance to speak went with them. Such odd fortune, that those two had come to this spot, on this night, when she was there to hear them. She gave a sigh as they disappeared over a rise in the landscape, and reached over to give her companion a scratch. The cat twitched an ear and looked at her, its eyes questioning. “Well, I didn’t want to interrupt.” It continued to stare at her, and she sighed. “I know. I shouldn’t have listened. But,” she said, “I’m kind of glad I did.”
 

 
Pinkie waited, her eyes locked in a single direction, as they had been for nearly a full hour. Applejack and Rainbow Dash certainly knew how to take a long time; but then, it was some pretty heavy stuff they had to consider. She didn’t mind the wait, actually. It gave her time to be still, and to let things settle. After all, they weren’t the only ones with things to consider.
She was fairly sure she knew what they would decide; Applejack, after all, was that rare creature who you could absolutely depend on to step up and take responsibility, most especially for the things that she and she alone could do. If it needed doing, and Jackie could do it, then she would do it. Simple as that.
Rainbow, on the other hand, was a little bit more difficult to place. If it was her in Jackie’s place, Pinkie wasn’t sure of Rainbow would go for it. If she did, it would most certainly be for different reasons. She liked glory and recognition; you only had to get her to tell one of her stories to figure out that out. Not that she ever lied about what she’d done. Rainbow earned her glory. The question was, would she decide to stick around?
Probably yes. Something more than just fame-seeking must have motivated her to go and face that dragon. Certainly something more had made her pull that draugr off of AJ, when her daggers did jack diddly squat, rather than run away. Come to think of it, she hadn’t abandoned AJ when the giant attacked, either. Rainbow would go, too.
As for Pinkie? She was going to go. That she knew. Thing was, as with so many things she did, she knew what she was going to do without really knowing why, and this wait had given her the time to think about it. She would probably follow these women into Oblivion itself; she had already followed them to her near death, and never questioned it. But why?
It was an interesting question, and not one she could easily answer. There was Atahbah’s push, of course, and Ri’saad’s suggestion, but neither of them had made the decision. Unca Sheggy had whispered of fun, and they had looked like, and it certainly had been fun; but it hadn’t been Unca Sheggy who’d gone and followed them, and lured off a giant, and then asked to join up with them.
She tilted her head, ears twitching forward. Actually, that had been just plain curiosity. They were interesting, those two; one of the few who came into the camp and didn’t sneer, or weren’t grumpy-guts the entire time, and with Atahbah’s prodding and Sheggy’s whispers, she’d figured, why not? After that? Well, they’d said yes. They’d chatted. They’d sang. They’d eaten together. They’d fought together.
That was it, then, she decided, and straightened, eyes tracking two distant figures. They’d traveled together, and they’d become friends. They liked her, and she liked them. Oh, she liked her Khajiit friends, too, but most were in in Elsweyr, and here, only Khayla was best friend material. Ri’saad and Atahbah were older, and Ma’randru-jo was all serious and full of himself. They didn’t need her, either. Rainbow and Applejack did. And that, she decided, grinning to herself, was why she would go with them.
She rose from her perch, moving for the first time since she had started her vigil, and ran forward to meet her friends. She’d had enough of waiting.
 

 
Applejack placed a hand on the horse’s head, gently stroking and making a cooing noise. The dun whickered in response, shoving her head into the caress, and the woman smiled. Golden Harvest. It was a good name, she thought; Jervar must have picked it, given the proud way he’d said it when she’d asked.
Her eyes flicked over to her friends, checking to make sure they were handling things okay. She was pleasantly surprised; Rainbow was a touch awkward, but her horse, a dapple grey by the name of Bright Eyes, was clearly of a cheerful temperament and was more than willing to make up the difference. Pinkie’s cream colored Junebug was either a very mellow horse, or Khajiit simply smelled enough like humans that their resemblance large cats wasn’t an issue. Certainly, none of them were acting nervous around her.
She returned her attention to her own horse, giving the mare a pat on the neck. She was a beautiful horse; they were all beautiful, really, and princely gifts. The Jarl had been generous, and, she thought, just a touch devious in the giving. After all, what better way to speed her on her way to whatever her dragonborn destiny held than to give her a horse to bear her there? Not that she would complain. Oh no. She had not thought to own a horse in her lifetime, and certainly not one so grand as Golden Harvest.
“You like her, then?”
She turned toward Jervar, and nodded, giving him a smile. “You and your father raise good horses.”
The man grinned, and nodded. “I’ll make sure to tell him you said so. He’ll like that.”
“All set, Jackie!” Pinkie said, already mounted on Junebug’s back, and Applejack nodded.
“Thanks again, Jervar,” she said as she swung herself into the saddle, and the man nodded.
“Safe travels!”
 
“You know,” she said, as they crossed the bridge towards Riverwood, “you girls don’t gotta come with.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Rainbow. “But I am.”
“Same here!” Pinkie said, a grin on her face.
Applejack looked from one to the other, frowning a bit. Did they really get what was in store? “You sure about that, girls? This isn’t gonna be something quick, like getting the Dragonstone. For all I know, this could take the rest of my life.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Rainbow. “That’s alright though. I didn’t have any real plans for the next five years as it was.”
“It’ll be an adventure! Pinkie likes adventures.”
She blinked. Just like that? Really? “Y’all absolutely sure, girls? I mean, this is my … thing. I’m the one as got saddled with it. You two ain’t got any obligation to-“
“AJ,” said Rainbow, her flat tone cutting the Nord off. “I said, I know.” She turned to face her, eyes narrowed. “Like I said, I really didn’t have plans. But more importantly, AJ, I’m not gonna just up and leave you right when it’s getting tough. You gave me a place to stay when I got out of Helgen. You went with me to face that dragon, and as I recall, the Jarl didn’t ask you to do it, he asked me. You didn’t ditch on me, so what kind of friend would I be if I ditched on you? That’s just not cool. Not cool at all.”
Applejack stared, mouth slightly open. Her eyes slipped over to Pinkie, who giggled. “Pinkie Pie wouldn’t ditch her friends either, Jackie,” the Khajiit said, winking at her. “And like she said, it’ll be an adventure! A ballad for the ages!”
The Nord managed to pull her mouth closed, and turned her attention back to the road, their path still well lit by Kynareth’s Gown. For all her determination back at the pine tree, she’d felt like someone had strapped a boulder to her back. Now though … now it didn’t really seem so bad. “Rainbow … Pinkie …” she said, her voice a touch husky. “Thank you.”
“Hey. That’s what friends are for, am I right, Pinkie?”
“Yep, you are!”

“’Tis a good axe, sis,” Big Macintosh said, turning the weapon over in his hands. “Good balance. Enchanted?”
Applejack nodded, her eyes on Apple Bloom. The little girl had hit it right off with Pinkie on their last visit, and the two were currently having a great deal of fun kicking a hacky sack back and forth. Pinkie executed a particularly complex series of juggles and kicks, much to the girl’s delight, and Applejack smiled.
“Horse of Whiterun on the blade,” he said, running his thumb over the insignia. “That stone ya went to get must have been mighty important.”
She shook her head. “They ain’t give us those for getting the stone.”
Macintosh looked over at her, a look of surprise on his face. They’d done something more hazardous than barrow-delving? “Shoot, sis. What’d you three do?”
She sighed. “You won’t believe it.”
“Maybe I will, and maybe I won’t,” he said, handing the axe back to her. “Ain’t gonna leave it lie, though.”
“I know.” She fixed him with a sharp gaze, and told him, completely straight, “We killed a dragon.”
Big Macintosh stared at her for a moment, slowly chewing on his haystalk. He knew his sister, and she was a terrible liar. Any time she tried to fudge, it’d be writ plain on her face. So either she was telling the truth, or she’d learned how to lie, because none of the tells were there. “Nope,” he said. “Don’t believe it.”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “I told you.”
“Nah, I believe you. Just don’t believe it.” He turned his eyes to Apple Bloom at a squeal from the girl, who was now attempting to flee from the menacing Pinkie by climbing a tree. Not the wisest of choices. “How’d you take it down?”
“Luck, mostly. And we had help; Jarl’s housecarl and a score of guards. But mostly, mostly, it was luck.”
Mac scratched his head, giving her a sideways glance. There was a lot more to that story, for certain sure. “And when are ya heading back out, then?”
“Tomorrow, I thi- wait.” She turned to look him straight in the eye. “How’d you know?”
“Couple o’ things,” he said, “but mostly it’s that y’ ain’t makin’ plans to stable the horses.” Applejack blinked. “How long you gonna be, AJ?”
Her face fell. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s … complicated.”
He grunted. “Must be. What happened?”
She told him. He stared. Once again, there was no trace of a lie on her face, and the Greybeard’s call, well … everyone had heard that. But this … his sister? Dragonborn? Sure, she was special, he’d always known that, but this was something else. This meant … different things. “You sure it’s you? And not Miss Dash? Or her?” he said, tilting his head in the direction of Pinkie. Applejack shook her head.
“I hate to admit it, but a part o’ me wishes it was.” She turned her eyes to the Khajiit, frown on her face. “Then it wouldn’t be on me to do it. I’d be the one insistin’ on helpin’ a friend, and somehow that’d make it easier.” She shook her head again. “This whole thing is confusin’, Macintosh. I still don’t get why me.”
He sighed, and put a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t get it, either. You belong here.” She gave the barest of nods, and he squeezed. “You’ve made the decision to go, though, haven’t you?” Again, she nodded.
“Dragons won’t stop themselves. And, well …”
“Apple Bloom,” he said, simply, and she nodded. “It’s alright, sis. I won’t say the farm won’t be the worse for you bein’ gone, but I can run her alright. An’ the town’ll pitch in. We’ll be alright.”
“I know.” She hung her head. “I just wish I didn’t have to go.”
“Me too, sis. Me too.”

Applejack spread the blanket out and smoothed the wrinkles, nodding her thanks to Pinkie for her help in the process. It was not long before the food was set out, and everyone was seated comfortably and eating quietly. It had been Granny’s idea, as usual, for the Apples (honorary members included) to go for a picnic in the lee of the Guardian Stones. She smiled, watching, as the old woman engaged Rainbow in a lengthy history lesson, and snickered at the inevitable headslap when her friend’s expression started going blank.
Granny hadn’t asked if she was staying, or going. She’d taken just the one look at her, and the new horses, nodded her head, and started making plans for the picnic. It was rather familiar, actually. The last time they’d come here was right before Big Mac had left for his stint in the Legion. Then, as now, they had picnicked here. There were no prayers said. No entreaties to the Aedra, nor to the Daedra. So sacrifices, no rituals, no tearful requests for promises that no honest person could make. Just family, food, and the Guardian Stones.
Applejack laughed and ruffled her sister’s hair, drawing a grin from the girl. Let the Guardians worry on fate. Helgen, High Hrothgar, and the Greybeards could wait until tomorrow; today, she would spend with what she loved.